


Penance

by Nellblazer



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angry Frank Castle, Angst, Breeding, Dark Frank Castle, Dom Frank Castle, Dubious Consent, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Grooming, Kidnapping, Manipulation, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23072533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellblazer/pseuds/Nellblazer
Summary: The last thing you remember is your boyfriend, Billy, shouting about a house invasion….the next thing you know, the Punisher has you chained up in a basement.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 179





	Penance

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Non-con, Dub-con, Marking, Grooming, Manipulation, Breeding Kink
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)
> 
> For the @mcudarklibrary‘s breeding challenge!
> 
> \- TLP xx

It wasn't the soft clinking that woke you, it was the cold. The cold seemed to pierce down to your bones, your nipples pebbling painfully against the inside of your bra and your breath coming in ragged gasps.

When you opened your eyes, you couldn't see anything except a chink of light that was snaking through what you thought was a door. Every now and then your hands caught in the weak beam and you saw the glittering at your wrists of chains.

What the fuck had happened?

You remember being in your home, your boyfriend panicking about someone invading and a whole lot of screaming before....nothing.

“Hey!” you call out, your voice sore. “HEY!”

Faint footsteps from afar that got closer and closer until the door flew open and you were blinded by the intensity of the light. You couldn't see much apart from a burly silhouette.

“Where am I?” you pull at the chains. “Please don't hurt me, I-”

But the figure puts their finger on their lips and shushes you. It's definitely a man and he stomps down the stairs to you before flicking on the light.

Harsh fluorescent day bulbs spring into life and disorientate you more. The man's stopped in front of you, waiting until you can blink away the coloured spots in your vision and then your stomach drops.

“You,” it comes out shrilly.

“Me,” he crouches down to meet your eye level and you see the skull on his tactical vest. “Wakey wakey.”

The Punisher.

Your boyfriend had been shit scared about the Punisher coming after him but you didn't know why. He was an upstanding man, the figure of a new private security company and a war veteran. What could The Punisher possibly want with him?

“You're the one that got in the house?”

“Ain't much of a house left,” he says curtly, shrewd dark eyes studying you, thick brow furrowed.

“You killed him?”

“What do you think?” he snorts. “He had it comin'.”

“So why am I not dead too?” you whisper, as if half afraid you'll give him ideas.

“Thought about it, trust me I did. You got somethin' that can help me though.”

“What?”

His hand dives between your legs and you try to clamp them together but his fingers dig further in, cupping you as he makes his point.

“Please don't.”

“This can help me,” he continues like he didn't hear you. “See, your boyfriend was involved in gettin' my whole family killed, wife, two little kids. Sure you knew that though, you ain't dumb.”

“What are you talking about?”

You genuinely have no idea. If Billy _had_ done that then no wonder he was spooked.

“D'ya know my name, girl?” he's still touching you. “Who I am?”

“No idea.”

“Frank Castle.”

You feel your face fall. Billy had mentioned Frank as being one of his good friends in the war.

“He would never do that. He loved you,” you protest.

That was the wrong thing to say. Frank's eyes hardened and his hand went from your groin to your throat, squeezing hard.

“He didn't love me. Love wouldn't be my little girl dyin' in my arms, would it? Russo was a world class piece a' shit n' now he's gone.”

“So what do you want with me?”

“Children.”

Your eyes widened impossibly. What the fuck did he mean by that?!

“Children?!”

“Your boyfriend robbed me a' mine n' now you'll give some back to me,” his gaze was cold, clinical as he assessed you.

“I don't want to.”

“I don't care. You don't have a choice, just like I didn't have a choice.”

“Please, Frank, please. I didn't know, I didn't know!” you plead, your voice breaking as you're shivering.

“Don't play fuckin' dumb, girl,” he pushes you back on the mattress beneath you and you squeak as you hit the surface. “How could you not know that Russo was dirty?”

“I didn't. He was nice to me. Frank, please, don't do this. You won't ever come back from this!” you try to make him see sense but he's beyond it.

“I already did the worst I could do,” he's prowling up your body and you have nothing but wall behind you. “Damned damned n' double damned. What's one more sin, huh? What's one more if it gets me a family back.”

“You want a family like this?” you're trying to push him back but it's like shoving a brick wall. “Born out of....out of....”

“They won't ever know,” he's unclipping his vest, throwing it to one side and pulling his tank top over his head to reveal scarred inches of pure muscle. “I'll take 'em away soon as they're born. Single dad. Once I got what I want, you can go.”

“Frank I-”

The words are wrenched from you as he tears into your t-shirt, ripping it to useless shreds as your bra follows shortly after. He's strong, incredibly strong and you know you have no hope of overpowering him....even if you weren't chained up.

The second he starts dragging your jeans down, you panic, squirming and screaming, trying to kick him in the face. Anything to stop him. He just grabs your legs and holds them in the crook of his elbow tightly as he undoes his pants, pushing them down one handed.

“Stop!” you cry.

“This is your penance, darlin',” he growls, splitting your underwear in two and now you're bare before him, only a few threads clinging onto your skin in a feeble attempt at covering you. “I'll forgive ya after this.”

“I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!” you yell loudly, the words reverberating off the walls.

“Shhhhh, shhhhhh,” he says, yanking your legs apart and using his weight to pin you down. “Keep quiet, girl. Don't fight me or this'll be worse for ya.”

“NO!” you buck, trying to dislodge him and immediately his hand is on your neck, squeezing hard and keeping your head back.

“I said SHUT UP!” he bellows in your face.

He feels down in between your legs and you're surprised his fingers are running smoothly through your folds, down until they slip into you. He slowly works them in and out, readying you for what's about to come.

“Didn't think you'd respond to me,” Frank looks at you with a cocked eyebrow. “Russo not treat you right, huh?”

“It's just a response, it means nothing,” you hiss, trying to wriggle away.

“Sure it don't,” he chuckles darkly. “Let's see if ya still singin' from that hymn sheet when I do what I'm gonna do.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“They say the chances a' conceivin' go up when the woman orgasms,” he grins before moving down your body and grabbing your thighs, holding you there. “Hold tight now.”

“No, wait!”

But his fingers are already moving, curling within you, the pad of his thumb circling your clit and you don't want to react but you twitch. He's watching your expressions like a hawk, eyes skipping over your face again and again.

He hits a particular spot and you can't stop the involuntarily gasp you make, hands curling around the chains to steady yourself.

“There we go,” Frank smirks. “Told ya it would be better if ya didn't fight.”

He's too practised. Where Billy was slower, a little less experienced and more hesitant, Frank was well versed, brutal and rapid. It takes him no time to figure out what gets that tension to start knotting, the release building.

“Come on, girl. Cum. Cum now,” he growls.

You couldn't help it. You had no way to break free and he wasn't stopping any time soon. The moan just forced itself out, the echo resounding your shame back to you as you writhed in his grasp.

“Shit, girl,” Frank looks at his fingers as he withdrew them. “No wonder Russo kept you around. Normally he has women in every state.”

The sore point hits a nerve as the memory of finding messages on Billy's phone comes back. He'd blown it off at the time as friendly chit chat but there was something in you that knew at the time that he'd been flirting, perhaps even something more but his doting attitude dispelled your own gut instinct.

“Ah fuck,” Frank catches your expression. “You really got in with the wrong man, darlin'. He was never faithful to anybody.”

“I don't need lectures from a man who's going to forcibly inseminate me,” you snarl.

“Ah hell it ain't inseminatin', it's fuckin'. Plain n' simple. Ya might enjoy it if ya stop squirmin'.”

“Frank, please,” you're begging him as you feel the head of his sizeable cock pressing against your entrance. “Please I don't want this. I won't tell anyone about you, just let me go. Maria wouldn't have wanted this.”

In one swift thrust he's buried up to the hilt in you, stretching you impossibly and you scream with the burn and at the violation. His hand grabs your jawline viciously, forcing you to look at him.

“Don't ya ever fuckin' use my wife's name like that again. Ya hear? Ya ain't got no right to. Ya nothin' but Russo's stress relief n' a warm bed.”

That stung along with the ache in your pussy where he was still trying to push more of himself in. The tears spilled over your cheeks and he just sighs before placing a hand over your eyes to shield your hurt expression from himself. Maybe it makes it easier for him to start fucking you this way.

His thrusts are harsh, unforgiving as he ruts with abandon, mouth close to your neck so you can feel his stuttered breaths as he chases his own pleasure inside you. The instant he licks along the curve of your throat, you reach your limit, headbutting him with such ferocity that his hand slips from your mouth and he rears back.

“Ya wanna play it like that, huh?” his voice thickens, darkens. “Nasty lil' girl.”

He pulls out of you before fighting with you, rolling you over onto your stomach where the chains twist above your wrists, locking you even more into place. You're flailing madly but he gets his knees in between yours and without any ceremony, he shoves into you again.

“Fuck you!” you yell, trying to throw him off.

“I like ya spirit,” he rumbles, hips pistoning with ragged precision. “Good thing to pass down to our kids n' all but face it, darlin', ya mine now. Accept it n' it'll go quicker.”

“I'm not yours! I'll never _be_ yours!” you curl your foot back to kick him in the shin.

Pain, sheer pain radiates from the back of your neck as he bites down, growling like some feral animal. If you move at all, you run the risk of him tearing a chunk out of you so you keep still, letting him fuck you as hard as he wants.

His hands are digging underneath your body, mauling your breasts before his hand comes back to your throat, a clear signal that he owned you now and you were nothing but a convenient pussy for him.

The pain gets sharper in the bite as he grunts heavily, cock pulsing in you and you knew he was done. Slowly he lets go, moving off you before flipping you back the right way and retrieving his clothing.

“Oh I think ya mine 'aight,” his eyes glitter.

“I'm not a bitch to breed,” you hiss, the uncomfortable feeling of his cum pouring out of you and sinking into the mattress already starting. “Don't you ever bite me again.”

“Ya know, ya say that but I felt your pussy twitch when I did. Think ya kinda like it,” he smirks crookedly. “Sit tight, girl. I'll be back with food later.”

He leaves you in the cell with the stark light, nothing to cover yourself with and an aching body.

That was the first day.

**

Over the next three weeks he had you daily.

You kept brawling with him every time, determined to never give him the satisfaction of being pliant. Frank just found it amusing, a small insignificant challenge and he always won. Always.

The more he did it, the more your body was ready for him, expecting him. You got wet when he approached you, you ached with need when he didn't visit at the same time of day. It messed with your head.

The back of your neck was permanently bruised. It was Frank's favourite spot to get you to be calm for him and any time you turned your head, the dull throb around the area was irritating.

Then everything changed when you got your period.

You could do nothing but bleed into the mattress and wait for him to come. He gave you showers in the corner every second day but you couldn't reach it yourself.

When he opened the door and spotted the red staining, his shoulders just sagged. Without a word, he locked himself in with you, moved to unlock your cuffs and brought you to the shower whilst he dealt with the mess.

After he had swapped the mattress out with one propped in the corner, he ducked under a unit and pulled out sanitary products along with comfy looking clothes.

“Here,” he says after you get out. “Get warm, girl. Sorry I was late today.”

“Why are you apologising to me?” you take the sweater and the sweatpants.

“Just because this ain't a civil situation don't mean I should be rude,” he shrugs. “Ain't dignified to lie in ya own blood.”

“So what happens now?”

The clothing feels so good after a near month of nudity and cool temperatures. You hug your arms around yourself.

“Ain't gonna touch ya until things are done,” Frank sits on the washing machine next to you. “Then we'll try again.”

“Promise?”

“Would ya believe me if I did?” he snorts inelegantly.

“Yes. You've always done exactly what you said you would.”

He considers you for a moment. His expression is a lot softer than it has been and you realise you're having an ordinary conversation for the first time since you've been here.

“Promise,” he nods. “I ain't a total monster. I'll bring ya some chocolate later.”

“Thank you.”

The response is automatic, a relic of instilled politeness and yet it has more meaning here. You feel ashamed to have thanked your captor but he genuinely smiles in appreciation.

“I know this ain't whatcha wanted,” he takes a deep breath and stares at the floor. “I'm just a desperate man, girl.”

“I'm sure you would have women lining up to have your babies if you put it out there.”

He laughs, a short bark, “Yeah but they ain't you. Whole point is that you were Russo's girl n' something from his shitshow of an existence should produce something good when all he did was take from me.”

“So why not hit up the other girls he apparently had?”

He bites his lip, nervously ruffling the overgrown buzz cut, “I saw ya in the park when I was tailin' ya for intel one time. A lil' girl came up to ya n' said she lost her mommy n' you just automatically helped her until she found her folks again. There was a mothering instinct there, reminded me a' her, Maria that is. Did ya ever want kids?”

“Someday. Not now.”

“It ain't ideal but I would protect them,” Frank sighs. “Our kids that is. Would dote on 'em, spoil 'em. My time in the military is done. No more tours n' months away from home. I could be the dad I couldn't be to Frankie n' Lisa.”

The more you listened to the words tinged with grief and loss, the more you started feeling sorry for Frank Castle. The rage you had felt towards him was ebbing away and you were starting to rationalise his actions, even though they were horrific.

“Anyway, I need to get you back on the mattress,” he cuts off the conversation abruptly.

“Just a few minutes more, please,” you plead.

He hesitates for a while, “'Aight but then you gotta go back quietly, okay? We're not at that trust level yet. I hope we will be soon.”

Trust. You didn't quite know whether he was being genuine or whether this was a grooming tactic; give you hope so you'll be a little more susceptible to the situation. You had no idea how to take Frank sometimes. He batted back and forth between tragic soul and full blown monster.

“Go on,” he gestures with his head after silence passes between you. “I'll...uh...I'll fix the heating in here tomorrow. Ya always so cold when I come to ya. Sorry.”

“That'd be nice,” you willingly walk to the chains.

You could make a break for it, run to the door and maybe get out into the main house but he would find you and you'd pay the price for it. As it stood right now, he was being nice to you and you could work that to your advantage if you were smart enough.

He clips you back into the cuffs, kneeling down in front of you and brushing your hair back softly, the wet strands clinging to your face. He surprises you by kissing your forehead.

“Good girl,” he praises. “I'll be back soon, 'aight?”

You're left in the room, more comfortable than before but more confused than ever.

**

Frank fixes the heating in the basement and you're no longer shivering at night. You sleep much better.

For his part, he brings you treats whilst you are bleeding but he does ask every day if you're finished yet. You spin it out for a couple of days longer than it goes on for but know he's not dumb enough to believe the lie indefinitely.

“Done yet?” he asks, after bringing you a small bowl of ice cream and spoon feeding you, slipping a pre-natal vitamin into your mouth too.

“Yes.”

“Alright well after you've eaten we'll get to it. Ya gonna fight me again?”

“I....I don't know.”

“That's fair,” he nods.

When you're done, he takes only your sweatpants off, starting like he always does by making you cum hard around his fingers. You don't hit back but you're not exactly relaxed, even when the waves of pleasure barrel through you.

Frank pushes his combat pants off, sliding the head of his cock through the slick mess, coating it before pushing in. You learned then that you still weren't going to lie back and accept it.

“Stop!” you push at his muscled shoulders.

“Aww darlin',” he tuts. “You were doin' so good for me. Don't ruin it now. Thought we were bondin'.”

“I can't- I can't-” you squirm.

“BE STILL!” he roars, trying to shock you into submission but it has the opposite effect.

Being so close to you, you're able to wrap one chain around his neck by moving your hand around and you pull viciously. His answer is to backhand you across the face so hard that your head bounces back after the impact and your vision swims.

You let go and he's able to get his neck free before twisting you over. You know instantly what he's going to do and you feel his mouth against your nape again, the bruises only just healed.

“Don't you dare,” you growl.

“Stop strugglin' then,” he rumbles at you. “Stop strugglin' n' I'll turn ya back over n' get this done as quick as I can.”

“GET OFF ME!”

You yelp as his teeth sink in and you no longer care about any damage to yourself, only that you want to get away. Something hot and wet runs down the curve of your throat and drips onto the mattress.

He's drawn blood.

You let out a primal scream of frustration and indignation which seems to turn him on because he finishes up inside you soon after, warmth flooding your walls as his breathing becomes more laboured and he releases his grip on you.

You're sobbing into the bed now and Frank grumbles his displeasure at that before you're manhandled the right way up and drawn into his arms.

“Stupid girl,” he chides. “Stupid fuckin' girl. Didn't hafta be like that. Why ya gotta keep fightin' me?”

You hate how you seek the heat of his embrace for comfort. You felt like you'd done something wrong, like you'd disappointed him and that made you feel sick to your core.

“Cry it out, darlin',” he rocks back and forth gently with you, soothing hands rubbing your back until you're calm. “Let me check out that wound. Didn't mean to bite so hard but ya kept turnin' ya head.”

Your kidnapper, your captor, your violator sat behind you and softly cleaned up his own marks, applying medical aid, humming a tune you half recognised all the while.

“What can I do to make this easier?” he says after a time.

“Uncuff me, I can't stand it,” you sniff. “I feel too powerless.”

“So that's why ya were different when we talked the other day. Don't like being cooped up.”

“No.”

“If I let ya have more time outta these, ya still gotta sleep in 'em, okay? But I'll letcha out most a' the day n' when we fuck. If ya try to escape, deal's off. Got it?”

“Yes.”

He grabs his keys from his pants and unlocks you. Instantly you feel better, drawing your hands into your chest and rubbing the wrists.

“I'll leave ya to recover. Dinner'll be later.”

He steps away from you, blood still smeared around his mouth as he looks back at you on the spotted mattress before going out of the door and locking it.

You would've started looking for exits straight away but you spot something hidden between the beams of the roof. A small red light that's blinking intermittently.

He'd installed cameras in this room when he'd fixed the heating. You had no chance of trying to escape if he was watching.

At least you could move though and that was one small victory.

**

After another four months went by without you falling pregnant, Frank was becoming increasingly desperate.

He gave you more and more vitamins, he'd study conception books in the same room as you on different positions and old wives' tales. Anything to help.

The dynamic had changed between you since that day he'd unlocked the cuffs. You were a little more accepting of him now, struggled less but still didn't make it entirely easier for him and he gave you more and more treats for what he saw as increased compliance.

You had a bookcase now, a small TV and a nicer bed that he'd built during a rainy day. You'd manipulated him as far as you could into being more gracious towards you and there was an uneasy understanding now.

It was a shock when he turned up for the 'daily activity' as he'd started calling it being piss drunk.

You'd seen him through a few of his more tormented days where he barely spoke to you and treated the sex like a chore but this was new. You'd never witnessed him this unsteady before and you weren't sure if you should be scared or not.

“It's time,” he moves towards you, swaying a little.

You go to the bed like he always has you do, warm woollen dress easy access for him. He kicks off his clothing fully before climbing in but rather than using his fingers, he starts kissing down your chest and your stomach, lingering there like he was trying to will a child into you.

“Someday,” he sighs before continuing down and down.

“Frank?” you ask, a little nervous. “What are you-oh!”

His broad tongue is lapping at you, circling your clit and he's groaning as he does it. Even in this, he was experienced and he seemed to be enjoying it a lot.

“Fuck ya taste good,” he stops for breath. “Need more, darlin'.”

He dives into you, licking everything you have to offer him as he pins your thighs tightly to the bed, keeping you exposed for him. Now would be the perfect time to strike, to hit him in the temple but...but it just felt so good. All you could do was lie there, softly moaning as he drove you higher and higher until you came with a stuttered cry, shattered under his talented mouth.

“I live to hear those noises,” he whispers as he prowls up your body.

To your astonishment, he bends down and kisses you. You're too shocked to do anything other than accept it before he draws back. Frank had never kissed you on the lips in the whole time you'd been here.

He eases his cock into you, slowly and torturously before starting a languid rhythm. This was different from the fucking. Frank was trying to make love to you and you weren't sure if this was better or worse.

“Frank-” you try to say in warning but he's kissing your neck so teasingly that you give an involuntarily shiver.

“Just once, once I wanna know what it's like if ya wanted me too,” he murmurs against you.

“Frank, don't do this.”

You didn't know if you could take the sweet treatment but it's decided for you as his muscles coil. You think you've angered him and you're right. He grabs your hair by the root and hisses in your face.

“Stop fuckin' fighting me, girl. I wanna be nice to ya, I wanna give ya nice things n' make ya feel nice things. Just fuckin' let me.”

“You're scaring me,” you whimper and he looks startled, stopping dead. “Frank, you're drunk and you're scaring me.”

He withdraws abruptly, gathering his clothing and just walks out of the door without another word. You're left on the bed, your emotions tangled and snarled.

Had he started to get feelings for you? Had he imagined that you'd just be a happy family once he achieved his goals?

You just climbed under the covers and stayed there for a long time, until the lights clicked off for night time. You're not sure when you fell asleep.

Sometime in the early morning, you reckoned, you heard footsteps approaching the bed and the mattress dipped as someone got in with you. A burly arm came over your body and someone cuddled up into the back of you.

“Frank?” you ask into the darkness.

“Shhh, darlin'. It's just me,” his deep voice is groggy and tired. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry for frightenin' ya. Just sleep now. I gotcha.”

This was far too domestic and you hadn't planned for that. You spent the night drifting off in his arms, only to wake up and realise where you were.

He was softly snoring behind you and you extracted yourself steathily from his grip before moving to his pants, searching for the keys. You held them tightly so they wouldn't clink before creeping silently to the door. You unlocked it, holding your breath when it clicked and swung open before you went through and locked it from the other side.

Carefully, you went to the upper level of the house seeing that it was just an ordinary townhouse. Photos of Frank, his wife and kids were sprinkled everywhere, in frames on the mantelpiece, in big portraits and tiny fridge magnets. You still hadn't come to terms with Billy having a hand in killing this all American looking family.

You stole over to where the front door was but it was locked with a keycode. You could try opening one of the windows and crawling out instead.

The second you touched the window, an alarm sounded shrilly throughout the house.

“Shit!” you hiss, fleeing upstairs to the top level so he wouldn't see you right next to the door.

You couldn't get out in time before he would find you so you needed to make it look more innocent than it was. What could you do?

You hit his bedroom and saw the en-suite with the huge claw foot tub and an idea formed in your head. You turned on the tap, adding bubbles, adding anything into the water to make it seem like you were after a luxury before you heard a huge thud and assumed Frank was shoulder barging the door below open.

In a moment of madness, you decided this needed to look extra real and took off downstairs into the kitchen, wildly searching until you found what you were looking for, grabbing a champagne magnum and racing back upstairs, popping the cork and getting in the warm bath, letting the water coat you and drinking from the bottle before assuming a relaxed position.

There's a bellow from downstairs and Frank's finally broken through the door. He's blithely shouting your name, trying to find you.

“Up here!” you call, drinking more champagne, feeling bitter that your plan didn't work.

It takes him less than a minute to find you and when his eyes fall on you, he's incredibly confused.

“What the fuck are ya doin'?” he takes in the sight of you in the tub.

“What does it look like? I wanted a bath.”

“Why lock me in then? Why set off the alarm?”

“It gets stuffy in any room so I wanted to open the window but couldn't. I wanted a bath because I'm too tense and I read in one of your books that falling pregnant happens when a person is less stressed. I locked you in because you'd just fuss around me and you were drunk.”

He swallows the lie so easily, so resolute to believe you wanted to help.

“Coulda just asked,” he sits on the closed toilet. “No need to be fuckin' sneaky 'bout it.”

“You would've let me?”

“Yeah. Ya know, it makes me happy you're trying to make this happen, a kid that is but I'm angry ya did it in this way.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, taking another drag from the bottle. “Yeah I know. It's just hard for me. I don't know what's wrong with me that I can't get pregnant, I feel like it's my fault.”

“Darlin', it ain't. Takes time sometimes,” he moves behind you, his rage dissipating quickly, your plan working nicely.

His broad hands come either side of your shoulders, massaging them. It shouldn't feel nice but it does and despite yourself, despite the failed escape attempt, you do eventually relax.

“Come on, let's sleep up here,” he offers you a towel once you're done.

“Really?”

“Really. You didn't try to run. I trust you.”

Evidently he didn't have cameras in the main bulk of the house which would save your skin. Still, there was something a little fucked up in the way that you felt a smattering of pride that he trusted you.

He dries you off, leading you into the bedroom and climbing in with you. Now you're back in the same position you were before but at least you'd gotten out of the basement.

**

He never puts you back down there again.

You're even allowed to use the kitchen which contains many knives but honestly, being an ex-marine, you had no chance of stabbing him if you went one on one. You'd have to bide your time, you tell yourself.

You develop into this strange Stepford Wives' routine of sharing your day with him, eating with him at the table and sleeping next to him in the bed. He still fucks you every day but it's less vicious and even bearable in some ways now you were not locked downstairs.

You still resisted somewhat but he didn't take it as offensive much any more.

“I gotta go for a night,” he says during breakfast. “Got a target I need to take out. Still parts a' Russo's network out there.”

He was confiding in you more and more what he actually did during the day and you found a strange sense of pity that he still had so much anger and revenge to enact on those responsible for his family's deaths.

“You'll be gone all night?” you ask.

“Yeah, there's food about n' there's TV,” he nods solemnly. “You'll be okay, right?”

“I think so.”

“That's my girl,” he smiles quickly, returning to shovel pancakes into his mouth. “These are so good, darlin', thank you.”

You were reacting more and more to his praises, seeking them out even. It made you feel good to see him happy. You liked him when he was happy.

The lines between captor and companion were starting to blur and you weren't sure when that had happened. You knew you still wanted to get free but a part of you would miss Frank if you did. At heart, he didn't want to treat you badly and domestic life with him was much better than it had ever been with Billy.

“Glad you like them,” you smile and he shyly blushes a little. “So you'll be back tomorrow?”

“Uh huh,” he says around a mouthful of food. “I'll bring ya back some more a' those chocolates ya like.”

“How about flowers?” you joke.

“Ya want flowers? I'll get ya flowers.”

“I wasn't being serious, Frank.”

He leans across the table and takes your hand, “I'll bring ya flowers _and_ chocolates. How 'bout that? Would you like that, darlin'?”

“Yeah, actually I would,” now you're the embarrassed one.

Billy had never gotten you flowers.

“'Aight,” he grins brightly, getting up and kissing you on the cheek before moving to wash up in the kitchen.

You touch the spot where he'd kissed you. He'd never dared to again after that night he'd been drunk and you found you weren't repulsed by it any more.

He goes to retrieve his tactical gear, strapping up before you meet him in the hallway. He looks like he wants to say something but is unable to spit it out so settles for stroking the side of your face and gazing at your lips.

“I'll be back as soon as I can.”

He opens the door and you glimpse outside into the suburbs and the blazing summer sun. It makes you wistful for a moment.

Frank turn around, catching your expression and his face softens, “We'll go out in the yard when I get back. Do some sunbathin'.”

“Really?!” you perk up.

“Really, darlin',” he smiles at your enthusiasm. “I'll see ya soon.”

The promise of getting out into the sunlight again lifted your mood immensely. You practically skipped back to the living room and went about your day.

Frank didn't come home that night as expected but he didn't come back the next night either.

**

After three days had passed, you were starting to panic.

What if Frank had been killed? What if he'd abandoned you and found someone else because you hadn't gotten pregnant yet?

Would you have to smash your way out of this house? Your food supply was dwindling fast.

You endlessly paced, worry gnawing at you. Was he alright?

You didn't sleep much, if it all during that time until you finally heard the front door open at about two in the morning. You raced down the stairs, flipping the light on to see Frank, bruised and bloodied, hobbling over the threshold.

“Frank!” you gasp, running to his side. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

He said nothing but reached for you and you threw yourself into his arms as he held you tightly. You could feel the relief in his movements, the relaxation in his shoulders as he did so.

“I'm so sorry, girl. They got me, locked me up for a time. I got out as soon as I could. I hated leavin' ya alone so long. Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, are you? You look like shit.”

He laughs weakly, “Ain't nothin' I ain't experienced before. Ya know, wasn't expectin' ya to care so much.”

“Come with me,” you tug his hand and he follows you with difficulty up the stairs.

You remove his clothing for him, seeing his wounds just looked bad on the surface, otherwise he was generally okay. He hadn't been hurt too much.

“Darlin',” he says, the word so full of confusion and longing.

You reach up, kissing him, all of your anxiousness melting away when you did that. He's startled at first but he kisses you back soon enough. His hands come around your waist, pulling you close to him as things become more heated.

“Are you sure?” he breaks away, forehead touching yours. “I ain't been kind to ya throughout this.”

“I missed you,” you admit. “And you _have_ been kind to me, given the circumstances.”

You were no fool, you knew this was wrong, possibly that your psyche was a little broken but Frank had treated you with nothing but respect when you were civil with him. He only became ired when you provoked him.

You pull him onto the bed as he crawls over you.

“No foreplay,” you shake your head.

“'Aight then, girl,” he settles between your legs.

The way he fucks you is like that time when he was drunk, sweet, deliberate and caring. You're indulging him this time, meeting his kisses, running your hands over his body and you're surprised at yourself with how much your desire spikes for him. You need him. You want him.

You and Frank make love until he cums deep within you, muttering praises about how beautiful you were, how wonderful you were. You got lost in his loving words and forgot what he was to you. In that moment, he was just Frank and a man you were starting to fall for.

As you rested in his arms, you glanced at the digital clock and noted you'd been here a little over ten months now.

**

“Don't crowd me,” you push Frank out of the bathroom as he hovers trying to get a look at the pregnancy test. “You're making me nervous.”

You'd been late this month, a fact Frank was getting excited for but you reminded him that it could be a fluke. He'd immediately brought his stock of tests to you and made you use them.

“Sorry, I just...”

“Yeah I know,” you sigh in exasperation.

“So what's it say?”

“Give it a minute,” you laugh, shaking your head. “It needs time.”

“Whatever happens, just know I love ya, darlin',” he says seriously.

Another month after he'd returned to you, he'd blurted it out during sex and you hadn't even blinked. He'd been quick to reassure you that you didn't need to say it back, he understood this was not an ideal situation for you but you were caring less and less about that.

He was giving you garden time, he was taking you out to the grocery store with him on occasion. It was starting to be a normal relationship and one where you were treated so much better than any man you'd dated before. You appreciated there was a dark side to Frank but it wasn't the whole of him.

You briefly wondered if some would accuse you of having Stockholm Syndrome but you didn't feel it was that way with him. Once you gave him your affection, the monster in him died away and you could see the real him, the him before the Punisher started.

“How 'bout now? It say anythin'?” he's craning his neck.

A blue plus.

“Take a look,” you step back, feeling a sense of relief.

You'd done it. You'd finally done it. You were pregnant.

Frank looks at the test and his eyes tear up before he grabs you, squeezing you tightly, “Darlin', you've done so well, I'm so proud.”

“Hey, easy on the hugs,” you warn.

He lets go, dropping to his knees and lifting up your shirt to pepper your stomach with kisses, “That's my kid in there. I can't believe it, girl. We did it. We did it.”

He's crying with happiness, cheek flush to your stomach and hands wound around you as you slowly pet his head.

“Do you forgive me now?” you ask and he looks up at you. “For dating Billy?”

“I forgave that a long time ago. I know ya had nothin' to do with Maria, Frankie and Lisa. All I want now, girl is for us to be a family. Do ya want that too or do ya wanna leave once the baby comes?”

“I'm not going anywhere, Frank.”

You would never leave your child and you would never leave Frank. Frank kept you safe, he doted on you and he spoiled you rotten.

“This is the best Christmas gift I've ever gotten,” he laughs through his tears, kissing your stomach once more before standing up and kissing you. “Thank you.”

“I love you, Frank,” you say without thinking.

His eyes crease up as he smiles so broadly, “I love you too, darlin'.”

He led you down to the living room where the Christmas tree sparkled as he put old songs on the radio and danced with you, danced in your prison but you weren't a prisoner any more. You were free and you were happy and this was your home now, here with Frank where you should've been from the start.


End file.
